Hitting a Wall
by ruth baulding
Summary: Master and Padawan engage in a three-day stand-off. Let the more stubborn man win.


**Hitting a Wall**

* * *

><p>"How can the Living Force <em>possibly<em> contradict the Code? The idea is absurd!"

"It is not a question of how, Padawan. It is a question of personal, ethical priorities. We must all choose by what rule to judge all other wisdom."

"Does that include the rule of misrule?"

"That's enough disrespect."

"It's not disrespect, master. It's the _truth!_ Why are you too stubborn to see it?"

No sooner had these imprudent and impassioned words tumbled past his lips than the fifteen year old Jedi Padawan blanched, his already pale skin whitening to a deathly pallor. His mouth snapped shut too late.

Jedi Master Qui Gon Jinn stood at his full, impressive height and looked down on his apprentice with an expression of furious placidity – a look which his protégé had privately nicknamed _death by understatement ._ The tall man's mouth hardened into a thin line and his eyebrows rose slowly, pressing fine lines of disapproval into his high, sloping forehead.

The Padawan swallowed. Silence reigned in the small, spare common room which served as their shared quarters in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Qui Gon tilted his head slightly to one side, as though considering some abstract problem. He gazed into his student's eyes steadily, reaching through the turbulent Force to gain a sense of what churned beneath the surface of the angry outburst.

"Ah," he said at last, forcing a tone of lightness into his voice. "I do not see things from your perspective, Obi Wan, because I do not share your point of view. This is a basic diplomatic problem. And what is the first rule of diplomacy?"

The young Jedi found his voice with difficulty. "Hostility solves nothing," he answered dutifully in a low tone.

"Second?"

"Before condemning another's opinion, seek to understand his point of view."

"Third."

"Actions speak louder than words, and silence more eloquently than either." Obi Wan's shoulders slumped perceptibly and his gaze dropped to the small patch of floor between their two pair of boots.

"Hm. And on this basis, what is the next step in our own diplomatic impasse?"

The boy's head snapped up. "Forgive me, master. I –"

But Qui Gon held up one finger for silence. "I do not want your apology, Padawan," he interrupted. Then he hastily added, "Because there is no need for it."

Now the boy's white face was flushed with embarrassment. They both knew that a Jedi should not be so _transparent._ Someone with such a large heart should certainly not wear it on his sleeve. It would take many years to instill proper Jedi reserve into Qui Gon's talented but impetuous apprentice.

"But an apology is only a step backwards, to the starting point," Qui Gon continued serenely. "How shall we move forward in this disagreement?"

"I should seek to understand your point of view," Obi Wan replied helplessly, as though he had proposed to breathe underwater or outrun a stampeding bantha.

A tiny smile pulled at the corners of the Jedi master's eyes. "Yes," he agreed, placing a large hand on either of the boy's shoulders and gently turning him about. "And to that end, I suggest an exercise in obstinacy."

"What?" Obi Wan stammered as his mentor marched him across the room and maneuvered him in to the corner where the two walls met at a crisp ninety-degree angle. He was so close that his shoulders brushed the smooth surface to either side, and he could see nothing but a bland expanse of creamy white and the line where the two sides intersected.

"Now," Qui Gon explained, humor still trying to ruffle the edges of his calm. "You accuse me of despicable and deep-rooted stubborness. Even Master Yoda would agree with you. As a fine diplomat, you will therefore agree that the only way to communicate with me effectively is to see things from my obstinate point of view." He gave his Padawan's shoulders a small squeeze.

"I don't understand…about the corner, I mean."

"It's simple," the tall Jedi smirked. "You will stay there until you change your mind and agree with me."

"What?"

"You are unusually hard of hearing today, Obi Wan."

"Master, I will not be bullied into agreeing with you. This is _ridiculous._"

"Agreed." Qui Gon tugged on the boy's Padawan braid. "But it is not your place to decide these things. Now, have you changed your mind yet?"

"_No,_ master. Of course not."

"Well, then, there you will remain until further notice. And that, young one, is a direct order."

The Padawan's back went ram-rod straight. "Yes, master," he ground out stiffly.

Qui Gon released his shoulders and took a few steps backward, leaving his student stranded and immobile in the corner of the room.

"I have classes to attend this afternoon," Obi Wan reminded him, politely. The master did not fail to notice the underlying warning that this might be a _lengthy _exercise.

"I can comm. Master Bondara and tell him you are busy standing in a corner," Qui Gon offered. "For impudence."

"That won't be necessary," Obi Wan muttered, giving the two walls a look which might have melted durasteel.

Qui Gon allowed himself to chuckle aloud, and retired into the adjacent room.

* * *

><p>Eventually Qui Gon left, without saying a word. He no doubt had business to attend to; he might be headed to the Archives, the map room, possibly a private appointment or a meeting, the sparring salons, the gardens and meditation rooms – a Jedi never lacked for tasks or training. And Qui Gon was an energetic man, who had been by all accounts positively restless in his youth.<p>

Much like his Padawan. Obi Wan stood in the corner, even after the Jedi master had departed. That much was a point of honor. Disagreement or not, he would never sink to outright defiance. They both knew this, and the knowing made the inane situation that much worse. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, to keep his knees from going stiff. Recently growing pains had plagued his joints, and this enforced stillness was bringing them to his attention again. With a sigh, he tightened his crossed arms against his chest and glowered at the unchanging blankness of the two walls.

If the tall Jedi thought this little stunt was going to change his apprentice's mind, he was sadly mistaken. Because if there was one person in the galaxy equal to the task of a stubbornness contest with Qui Gon Jinn, it was his own pupil. Not that Obi Wan couldn't appreciate the subtle elegance of the punishment. Humiliating was one word for it, inasmuch as standing in a corner was rumored to be a millennia-old child-rearing gambit used by many species in hundreds of systems. At fifteen one did not expect to be treated as a five year old. But that wasn't the main thrust of the so-called exercise. No. It was the mental tedium which made it so difficult. Qui Gon knew full well that his Padawan was more than up to the challenge of hardship, deprivation, public reprimands, extra work, grueling drills and studies, even physical pain. What he _wasn't _up for was sheer nothingness.

Another sigh and he leaned his forehead against the crook in the walls, just for something to break up the monotony. Boredom was a cruel weapon, and Qui Gon knew how to deploy it with the precision of a Huttese assassin.

Obi Wan closed his eyes. Most likely he should meditate, but his nerves were on edge and his mind, robbed of any interesting stimulus for hours, was running on hyperdrive. It would be difficult to find his calm center, to slow his own frantic imagination to a halt. That was the worst of it. He was his own enemy here, inflicting a lingering and painful death on his own resolve. Still…

"I won't give in," he informed the walls, matter of factly.

* * *

><p>Qui Gon encountered Master Plo Koon as he exited the dojo early in the evening.<p>

"Master Jinn," the Kel Dor Jedi greeted him with genuine warmth. Of all his peers, Plo Koon was perhaps the most sympathetic to the maverick antics of the tall human Jedi. He never seemed terribly perturbed by Qui Gon's extravagant detours from protocol, in the name of compassion and instinct. The two of them enjoyed a mutual respect, and even some might say a personal friendship.

"A pleasure," Qui Gon responded. "You are well?"

"Of course," Plo rumbled behind his breath mask. His deep forehead crinkled. "I missed your Padawan in advanced astro-cartography this afternoon," he continued. "Is he ill or injured?"

Qui Gon shook his head. "No – thank you for your concern. We managed to complete our mission unscathed, by the will of the Force. Obi Wan is in high spirits – too high for his own good. I'm afraid he found himself otherwise occupied this afternoon, though I am sure he would wish me to extend his respectful apologies for his absence."

Plo's expression was difficult to read, due to the apparatus which covered a good portion of his face, but a ripple of humor spread in the Force. "I see," the KelDorian murmured, stroking his chin with one long, clawed hand. "I was about to dine. Will you join me?"

The refectory was abuzz with quiet activity at this time of day. They sat at one edge of the spacious hall, putting a judicious distance between themselves and a rather animated table of younger Padawans on the opposite end. Master Plo used a drinking tube to sip at his rich broth. Qui Gon leaned back in his seat, wrestling with a small pang of guilt that he was depriving his own apprentice of a meal the boy no doubt badly wanted and needed. Still, discipline and wisdom certainly took priority over the demands of the body. He set his jaw and started in on his own meal with a determined air.

"I am taking on a new learner myself," Plo offered, conversationally. "Sho Mai. A most ferocious creature."

Qui Gon smiled. "Except in your presence," he amended.

"She will make a fine Knight someday," Plo decided confidently. The Kel Dor was older than Qui Gon counting in standard years, though not yet as mature in the age cycle of his own people. He had trained three Padawans already, all of different species than his own.

"There is a KelDor initiate of the same age," Qui Gon reminded him. "Why do you never choose one of your own people?"

Plo set down his drinking tube and propped one elbow on the table. "Ah," he replied, good humoredly. "The old debate. You, my friend, have always taught another human."

"We understand and are best understood by one of our own species," Qui Gon said simply. "While the Force is indifferent to such distinctions, growing minds and bodies are not. I feel it is right to take advantage of such natural affinities."

"Indeed," Plo responded amicably. "There is some insight in that point of view. I respect your opinion. For my part, I have always been aware of the danger inherent in too great a natural similarity."

"Attachment?" Qui Gon scoffed. "That, too, does not depend on species, but on the temperaments of the persons involved."

"Perhaps." There was a pause, during which Master Plo calmly studied his friend across the table. Qui Gon gazed back, unperturbed. "But it is possible, you must admit, that a _parental_ bond more easily arises between those of natural biological similarity. Even you will not debate that point."

The tall Jedi lifted his tea cup. "Of course not. I just don't see why that is a problem," he answered brazenly, savouring his first sip of the hot liquid with a smug expression.

Plo Koon's rich chuckle drew the attention of a few others seated nearby. "You win, my friend," he said. "You win."

* * *

><p>Obi Wan's stomach growled insistently.<p>

It was growing more difficult to ignore the protests, and to keep himself occupied and amused. There are not many things one can do with a pair of joined walls –but certainly more than most people might imagine. He had entertained himself for some length of time with a series of isometric exercises, designed to build strength in the arms legs and chest. When this grew tedious, he resorted to testing his Force perception skills, narrowing his focus to the invisible interior of the walls, feeling out each pipe and piece of insulation and the wiring for the door controls and the lights. He had dimmed and brightened the lights, adjusted the temperature controls for the air cycler, locked and unlocked, opened and shut the doors inside and outside the apartment. He noted with satisfaction that he could, if he had wanted, short out the entire system. This skill might be useful in the future. After all, the _fourth _rule of diplomacy, the one Qui Gon had neglected to drill him on earlier, was this: _keep your lightsaber handy. _

The sun outside must have set, for the lights automatically dimmed with the evening hours. He played with them for a while, without touching the controls, and then decided he appreciated the change. Twilight relieved the unvarying blank whiteness of the walls, and Force knew he could use a change of scenery. He next found amusement in levitating objects around the room behind his back, lifting them off the floor, bringing them forward carefully until they touched the walls before him, and then replacing them in different positions. This prolonged use of the Force was exhausting, and soon his growling belly and stiff knees were making their protests felt again.

Growing desperate, he resorted to an ancient childhood game of imagining – allowing the slight discrepancies in the walls' texture and color to suggest images to his mind, much like cloud gazing. He pursued this line of distraction until every fanciful picture he summoned up was one of food. Sighing, he abandoned the attempt at play and resigned himself to a long wait. In truth, he had expected Qui Gon to return much earlier, ready to receive notification of his victory. Obi Wan had been looking forward to disappointing his master on that count. The pleasure of proving his mettle had been a comforting thought, a motivation to endure the endless boredom. But Qui Gon it would appear had _not_ underestimated his strength of will, and had been gone all day and all evening.

_He really meant it, you chosski. He's going to leave you here until you change your mind,_ he told himself.

"I'm not going to change my mind," he asserted. The walls said nothing in reply.

* * *

><p>"Dear me," Jocasta Nu muttered. "Master Jinn." She placed a hand on the tall Jedi master's shoulder, waking him from a light slumber.<p>

Qui Gon opened his eyes, and noted that he was still in the Archives, though the quiet of the hushed central hall and the dearth of other occupants suggested that it was very late at night. He stood and stretched, flicking the reader's monitor to standby and bowing to the archivist who had discovered him nodding in the small research alcove.

"Thank you," he said, sheepishly.

"Really," Madame Nu gently chastised him. "You aren't on active duty, Qui Gon. A little rest might do you some good. I'm sure that Padawan of yours is very demanding."

"Very," he agreed wryly.

"Good night," Jocasta replied, in a tone which suggested the words were more of a command than a benediction.

Qui Gon found his way out into the main concourse and wearily headed back to his quarters. He was under no illusion that the contest of wills between himself and his apprentice was at an end. Indeed, he had avoided their quarters all day in order to spare himself the painful spectacle of his Padawan valiantly testing the limits of his own recalcitrance. He knew he would find the boy exactly where he had left him, unrepentant and undefeated.

He was right. Upon entering the apartment, he noticed immediately that everything in the common area had been moved from its original position. So the cunning akk pup had been distracting himself by practicing his skills. Qui Gon felt a surge of mingled chagrin and pride. Resourceful as ever, Obi Wan had found a way to transform discipline into mischief. Several small objects had been carefully placed to trip the unfortunate who might enter unawares. In his bleary-eyed condition, Qui Gon actually stumbled slightly upon a meditation cushion left lying in precisely the center of his habitual path from front entrance to 'fresher door.

He could almost hear the ironic comment. _You should be more aware of your surroundings, master._

"Imp," he muttered, catching himself gracefully and Force-waving the cushion back against a wall. He crossed the pitch dark room and found his Padawan exactly where he had left him; the boy knelt, still facing the corner, slumped to one side against the wall, his head at an awkward angle. His breath rose and fell evenly. Qui Gon shook his head and cursed softly under his breath. Only Obi Wan could defy his teacher in such an obedient manner. It tugged at his heartstrings, and for a moment he wondered whether Plo Koon's philosophical objections raised over dinner might have some weight to them. He shrugged out of his cloak, draped it over the sleeping boy's shoulders, and retired to his own bed.

* * *

><p>"Good morning," Qui Gon Jinn's mellow voice called out from somewhere in the living area. The scent of hot tea wafted through the air, and presently a steaming cup of silpa brew appeared over Obi Wan's shoulder.<p>

Reluctantly, he accepted the peace offering, carefully taking the hot ceramic bowl from Qui Gon's hand. The tea was delicious, and his empty belly welcomed the relief. "Thank you," he said after drinking half the cup in one long draught.

"I was hoping to spar with you this morning," Qui Gon continued. "We've reserved one of the senior dojos, and I have a few select opponents invited. A tournament of sorts."

Obi Wan could feel his hand itching to grasp his saber blade and release his pent up frustration and boredom in the glorious movement of a prolonged saber session – against _selected opponents,_ no less. Qui Gon was tempting him, sorely. "I should enjoy that very much, master."

"Am I correct in assuming you have changed your mind, then?"

He steeled himself, staring steadily at the unrelenting and hard line where the two walls met. "No."

"Ah, Obi Wan," his mentor sighed, lifting his own cloak off the young Jedi's shoulders and replacing it on his own. "I shall give your regards to Padawan Tachi, then. I believe you promised her a thorough whipping the next time you met in the dojo? I'm sure she will not be so judgmental as to suppose your absence a forfeiture due to bad nerves."

The Padawan's appalled gasp was barely audible, but Qui Gon heard it. He placed one hand on the boy's tense shoulder. "I believe I am right about the subject of our disagreement," he said gently. "What do you say?"

Obi Wan merely handed him the empty cup and sucked in a deep calming breath. "Master, I have not changed my mind. Nor will I," he answered softly.

Qui Gon stood behind him a moment longer, rubbing one hand over his short beard. His eyes were crinkled with amusement and concern. Really, such a trivial matter should not result in such a prolonged and pitched battle….but whoever wrote the universally acknowledged rules for _should have_ had obviously never met his apprentice. "Very well," the Jedi master grunted, and took his leave.

* * *

><p>"Qui Gon," Yoda chuffed, hobbling into the dojo on his gimer stick. "Looking for young Obi Wan, am I. Expected him to be with you here, I did." He waved one end of the stick around to vaguely encompass the wide sparring halls.<p>

The tall Jedi bowed. "He is in our quarters, master. Is the matter urgent?"

They exited together. Yoda snuffled and grumbled to himself as they proceeded down the concourse to a nearby lift tube. "Hm. Sensed a disturbance, I did."

The lift carried them swiftly to the residential levels. "Ah," Qui Gon sought for the best words to describe the situation. "He is engaged in a …disciplinary exercise," he explained. "I do not think there is a serious cause for alarm."

Yoda's ears quirked upward humorously. "Ah," he chuckled. "Interfere I will not, Qui Gon, unless my help you wish."

The tall master smiled slightly. "Your help and insight are always appreciated, master. Perhaps you can speak to him?"

They entered Qui Gon's quarters to discover his Padawan still standing in the assigned corner, back set in a determined line. Yoda observed this arrangement with wide green eyes, and then leaned on his stick for a few long seconds.

"Master Yoda?" the boy said, not daring to turn around, but easily identifying the visitor by his resonant Force presence.

"Hm," the tiny green Jedi confirmed.

Obi Wan's neck and ears flushed a brilliant crimson.

"Stand in a corner, do you, young one. Why?" the ancient teacher queried, tapping his way forward with slow, shuffling steps.

"I…I am here because my master told me to stay here."

Yoda paused directly behind the boy. "Too tall are you already. Kneel down so speak we may."

Obi Wan sank down onto his knees and sat on his heels, still keeping his eyes trained on the two walls ahead. Yoda stood close behind him at the level of his shoulder. "Stay here forever, did he tell you?"

"No master, of course not."

"Until when?"

"Until I change my mind about something we discussed yesterday morning."

"Hm. Strange way to settle a dispute is this. More behind this there is."

"Yes, master," the boy admitted miserably, head dropping. "I was disrespectful."

Yoda growled disapprovingly. "Apologize you should."

"I have, master. I am sorry. It won't happen again."

Yoda craned his knobbly head around to glance at Qui Gon, who watched and listened to the exchange impassively. "Hmmmm," he rumbled.

"What should I do?" Obi Wan asked quietly.

Yoda snorted. "Change your mind, you should, Padawan! Obvious is that not? Stuck in this corner do you wish to be until a grey beard you possess? Waste of life is that. Waste of Master Jinn's time. Waste of your time. Not befitting a Jedi."

The young Padawan cringed. "But, master…the truth…" he protested feebly.

The ancient green master reached out one arthritic hand and grabbed the boy's nerf-tail, giving it a sharp tug. "Truth!" he exclaimed. "Truth! Cruel mistress is the truth. Tricky. Beyond your grasp, always. In motion, like the Force. Grasp not at truth, Obi Wan. To see it better, hold not so tightly to it, you must."

The boy swallowed hard, frowning deeply at the blank walls. "Yes, master," he said after a while, clearly not quite comprehending what had been said to him.

"Go now I will," Yoda announced, beginning the long shuffle back to the entrance. "Find a corner, perhaps. Meditate there.. See what wisdom can be found, hm?"

Qui Gon bowed deeply in gratitude as the tiny master departed. When they were alone again, he turned back to his apprentice. "Well?"

"No, master. I can't. Even to please you. Even to please Master Yoda."

"Then I shall have to take lunch alone."

He heard the small thunk as the boy let his head drift down against the walls again. The urge to call off the whole thing was nearly overwhelming, but Qui Gon held firm. A lesson was a lesson.

"Lest you forget," he said, by way of parting. "You are striving to see things from my point of view."

"Yes, master," came the weary, but stubborn reply.

Qui Gon left again.

* * *

><p>The day wore on, and after a while he discovered that his reluctant legs really would not hold him any longer without cramping and hurting abominably, so he resorted to sitting with his face to the corner, sometimes on his knees, sometimes in lotus position, trying to meditate to distract himself from hunger, thirst, boredom, and the almost pleasant lightheadedness that resulted form the prolonged mixture of all three.<p>

When the lights began to fade for the second time, heralding the arrival of another night, and he found his head swimming from exhaustion, he wondered whether Qui Gon would bring the test to a halt were he to pass out. Likely not. He imagined that the Jedi master would bring him food and water eventually, in order to prolong the battle. Neither of them would cede defeat any time in this millennium. Then another urgent need made itself felt, despite all his training and control, and he excused himself to the 'fresher for a minute or two. He felt a pang of guilt at the small act of disobedience, and returned to standing at attention as a compensation. In the end, after worrying it over for a half hour, he decided that he really hadn't broken his word of honor, and released a long sigh of relief.

Qui Gon returned late in the evening, and placed a hand on his Padawan's forehead wordlessly. A minute passed.

"You're going to make yourself ill," the tall Jedi observed. "Enough, Obi Wan. I thought by now you might have heeded Master Yoda's advice. Indeed, I hoped so. I do not enjoy this any more than you do."

"Master…with your permission, I should like to be done standing here."

Qui Gon folded his arms. "So you've changed your mind."

"No, master, but I shan't argue the point with you any further. "

"You're offering me a cease-fire, with promise of a future peace treaty?"

"Yes. Not a full surrender. But negotiated co-existence."

The Jedi master chuckled dryly. "Your offer is tempting, and were I any reasonable person in the galaxy , other than myself, I would be intrigued. What are the terms of the treaty?"

"Well," Obi Wan mulled it over. "There will be no further mention of my opinion on the matter unless specifically requested by you. We will return to ordinary routine starting immediately, and the past thirty-two hours will be struck from the record. There will be no retaliatory actions – outside the dojo, of course-"

"Of course."

"-and there will be an agreement that no future misdemeanors will be met with corner-standing offensives."

"I see. The terms are generous. What am I expected to yield in return?"

"Simply to uphold the terms of the treaty in perpetuity, or until I outrank you-"

"Ahem."

"-and to provide one extraordinarily large dinner in the city as recompense for cruel and unusual punishment inflicted on innocents."

"I see no _innocents_ here, Obi Wan."

"Those are the terms, master. I recommend that you accept them. Trifling over details such as exact wording is a waste of time and energy. We both have much to accomplish and as Jedi we are sworn to uphold the peace and to promote harmony and cooperation."

Qui Gon leaned against one of the walls, to gain a view of his apprentice's profile. "I accept the treaty in full, with one small addendum."

"Yes?"

"Added to the conditions, you will make a brief statement declaring that you have changed your mind."

Obi Wan gritted his teeth in frustration. "That's not possible," he insisted. "Master, this entire situation is impossible! There's no solution!"

"You'll find one," Qui Gon assured him.

The young Jedi rocked back on his heels, stretching tired muscles. "I'm too hungry and bored to think," he muttered. "I don't know what you want of me. I've tried to see the question from your point of view. Truly. But it hasn't shifted my own opinion. I can't satisfy you without lying, and that is against the Code. I can't solve your riddle or whatever this is, because I'm far too exhausted. I do want to end this, but _I don't know how!_"

Qui Gon waited.

"Please."

He said nothing.

"Master!"

"Let me tell you something, Padawan. Why don't you sit before you fall over?" He waited until they had both slid down to the floor. "If you were in my position, then these two walls would be the Jedi Code and the Living Force. I am hemmed in by these two things, much as you are. The Council plays my part, binding me to stand here, at an impasse, until I yield. But my heart tells me that I cannot do that without dishonor, or without these two walls impossibly melting away. If I make a decision which seems incomprehensible to you, or which seems obstinate and reckless, know that this is my viewpoint: the one you have been enjoying for these past two days."

Obi Wan turned his head so he could see the older Jedi's face. He looked stricken. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've not had compassion for your perspective before."

Qui Gon patted his arm. "That is a great step forward. Now, you must find the next one for yourself."

"I can't!"

"Perhaps not. But the Force can show you a path, even when you cannot find one on your own. Meditate on it."

He made sure the boy downed two cups of silpa tea laden with honey – a traditional fasting recipe - and left him with a blanket to warm his lonely night vigil.

* * *

><p>It was mid-morning when Obi Wan finally stirred out of restless slumber and rubbed at a painful crick in his neck. He had slept – after countless hours of intense meditation- curled in an exhausted ball against one of the two walls, facing the opposite one, the blanket twisted awkwardly somewhere in the middle. He was light-headed after a two day fast, and felt as though part of himself were floating above the rest. The Force seemed to eddy and pool around him, coaxing and yet not quite obedient to his touch, like a stray felinoid that feigned affection only to slip away when petted. And yet there was a startling clarity, too as though a small, luminous gift had been mysteriously deposited in his mind while he slept. He woke up, head aching and heart singing.<p>

"Master," he croaked, struggling to his feet and bracing his hands against the two walls which now constituted his whole world.

"Good morning," Qui Gon said. "Do you wish to take another step forward?"

"I'm going to tell you a story."

The Jedi master was taken aback, but he silently moved closer. "I am listening."

"There once were two friends who went on a quest for a mythical beast. They caught fleeting glances of it as they journeyed through a thick forest, and they followed avidly, helping each other along. As night fell, and their vision failed, they were separated. Each made a desperate leap for their quarry and seized hold of it, one the tail, one the head. Each insisted to the other that he had captured the beast and would not believe that the other had done so. They argued in this fashion for some time, until the sun finally rose. When it broke over the horizon, the two friends saw that they _both_ had captured the beast and that all their argument had been vain and foolish."

Qui Gon felt a lightening of heart, to match the morning sunlight. "And then what happens, Padawan?"

"The beast kicks them both off, gives them a good trampling to make the lesson stick and goes off in a fury," the boy suggested brightly. "But at least they have some wisdom."

"And the meaning of this tale?"

Obi Wan looked down, hesitant.

"You cannot propound a riddle and then refuse to explain it," Qui Gon prompted him.

"Master Yoda does it all the time," the young Jedi pointed out.

"You are eight hundred some odd years away from being Master Yoda, Padawan mine. So let us hear your interpretation."

"I…_have_ changed my mind, master. You were not wrong, as I said. I apologize for speaking too hastily, and with disrespect."

"I was not wrong?" Qui Gon's eyebrows rose. "That _is_ a change of opinion."

"Not exactly," his apprentice corrected him. "I also retain my original opinion. I was not wrong, either. I think…we are both right, like the friends in the story. And that we have each a piece of the truth, which two perspectives somehow are united in the Force."

Qui Gon allowed the smile which had been tugging at his mouth to spread over his face, and a warm, musical laugh escaped him. It surprised his apprentice, and his expression inspired the tall master to clap him heartily on the shoulder, which shocked him further.

"Beautiful," Qui Gon beamed. "Come out of that corner."

"You're…satisfied?"

"Better. I am impressed. You've changed your mind without changing your mind, and I think you've changed my mind in the process. That is astonishing. You've taken a _great_ step forward."

"If you say so, master."

"I do. Now get dressed, wash up. I'm taking you out for an extraordinarily large breakfast. You will have much studying to catch up on, I'm afraid."

Obi Wan grimaced. "I wont' argue that point."

"It is unfortunate," the Jedi master agreed. "Next time it would be easier simply to yield to my side of the argument."

"Easier, not better," the youth quipped, hurrying to make preparations for the promised breakfast run.

"True," Qui Gon chuckled. "Quite true."

FINIS


End file.
